Rebecca Rex
by FireCube
Summary: Before Rebecca died, what was Manderley like? This was written for fun, don't judge to harshly, but a review would be kindly appreciated! The quote is from Oedipus Rex


The reflection of the sun through the crimson red curtains cast an eerie red glow over the morning room. The rhododendrons just outside the window had grown so tall that they began to snake up the side of the wall, peering through the window, as if staring into the heart of Manderley. The sole occupant of the room sat calmly at her desk, an air of harshness enveloping her. Rebecca slowly turned the pages of The Count of Monte Cristo with her long, delicate fingers. While running her eyes mindlessly over the page, her mind wandered elsewhere. Envisioning the Count, Rebecca admired his intricate and often unlawful plots for revenge. His plots struck a deep desire in Rebecca. Smiling devilishly, she wondered how Maxim would react if he caught her reading a novel about revenge. Knowing she had Maxim wrapped around her little finger, Rebecca could do anything she wanted. Her marriage with Maxim was just a scam to satisfy her deepest desires. Oh how she loved to see him squirm when she continually tortured him mentally. The helpless look in his eyes when she reminded him that no one would believe him if he were to tell the truth satisfied her every evil nerve.

As her thoughts overtook her, Rebecca signed a letter on her desk. Her pen slowly scratched at the parchment, forming the long, tall, drawly _R_ that towered menacingly over the rest of the letters. Rebecca imagined herself as a puppeteer and Maxim was her puppet, restricted by strings, unable to break free. Her numerous scandalous affairs had not gone unnoticed by Maxim, but there was absolutely nothing he could do.

The silence was broken by footsteps indicating the arrival of Maxim. His slow, heavy steps masked his deep depression and heavy heart.

"Hey honey!" Rebecca said sarcastically. Maxim shot a glare at her that would have frozen any other heart, except for the stone heart of Rebecca. His many hours of anguish and helplessness had taken a toll on him. Deep wrinkles had formed on his forehead, crow's feet nested in the corner of his eyes, and dark circles had manifested themselves under his eyes. He averted his eyes downwards and continued walking, doing everything in his limited power to ignore the witch that currently resided in his household. He wondered what he had done to deserve Rebecca and all the troubles she entailed. It seemed to him as though Rebecca's devious plan had existed since they had first met, and he had unknowingly walked into her open arms. In retrospect, Maxim could not see how he could have been so oblivious. He had been extremely willing to give his heart to anyone that he never bothered to look up at who he had handed it to. The often prolonged disappearances, suspicious letters, and devious smiles should have been red flags from the start.

Maxim was abruptly brought back into reality when he looked up and saw Mrs. Danvers standing in front of him, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. Maxim did not dislike Mrs. Danvers, he just had a natural inclination to be scared of her. She seemed to favor Rebecca, carrying out every given order with no hesitation. As Maxim's thoughts wandered yet again, Mrs. Danvers yelled at him in her signature harsh, staccato voice:

"Why are you not dressed for your evening out with Mrs. de Winter later tonight?"

"Uh… I lost track of time" his voice faltered. The look he received made him want to curl up in a corner and disappear. He hurriedly ran towards the nearest staircase that led to his chamber. His strong front began to fall apart as he entered his chamber. Maxim thought if only he could tell his side of the marriage to someone, Rebecca would get her due. Ben would support him, but the entire staff of Manderley would side with Rebecca. The same Rebecca he thought he loved turned out to be a devious, manipulative woman, who had managed to trick everyone at Manderley into believing she was a formidable person. As the realization sunk in, so did his heart.

Maxim walked up to the circular mirror hanging on the wall. He leaned in to examine what Rebecca's torture had done to his face. He blinked his eyes as he wondered if the man looking back at him in the mirror was the same man who had met Rebecca only a year earlier. It seemed like he had aged ten years in several months. As he took a deep breath, a note fluttered like a feather from the top of the mirror that he had not noticed before. He apprehensively picked it up when he recognized her slanted, delicate handwriting.

_"How dreadful knowledge in truth may be when there's no help in truth!" –Rebecca_.

This was it. The final push over the edge of the precipice. Rebecca had driven him insane. Knowledge of the truth could not help him, no one would believe him. Breathing heavily and not thinking straight, Maxim searched through all the drawers in the room, overturning numerous documents. Opening the last drawer on the west side of the drawer, the metal from inside gleamed a beautiful silver. Maxim held his breath as he reached into the drawer and pulled out the weapon. The silver gun. Vowing to himself to get rid of Rebecca once and for all, he stormed out of the room, tucking away the gun into his jacket…


End file.
